


Til Love Has All It's Rites

by kijikun, Obstinate Nocturna (ChrisCrossed)



Series: The Flow of the Light [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amica Endurae, Conjunx Endura, First Aid/OFC (background), Implied Relationships, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Not Canon Compliant, Original Femme Transformers, Therapy, courting, hints of Whirl/Rung, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCrossed/pseuds/Obstinate%20Nocturna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron and Rodimus on the road of Conjunx Ritus. A road with potholes, sharp curves, and blind corners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to our lovely beta: harutemu!
> 
> _Time Units Used:  
>  Vorn: ~83 years  
> Orn: ~1 Day  
> Decacycle: ~3 weeks_

 

Chapter 1 

 

_Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites - Shakespeare_

 

When Rung took off his glass and polished them while looking carefully in Rodimus direction, he knew he was in trouble. He squirmed in his seat. 

"If you do not wish to talk about what happened that's more than fine, Rodimus," Rung assured him. 

Rodimus ex-vented, annoyed; not at Rung but, as usual, himself. “No, I mean -- I’ve already talked about it to Drift, Megatron, _and_ even _Ratchet_ ,” which was possibly one of the most awkward conversations of Rodimus’ life. “I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble now,” He muttered, slumping down in his chair. If he survived this session without dying of embarrassment, he was going to canonize Rung. The mech already had the patience of a Saint, and he was pretty sure he could get _at least_ Whirl to back him up on the idea. 

Oh, but that would mean having to talk to Optimus. Rodimus covered his face plates with his hands. "What Optimus thinks shouldn't _matter_. What he said shouldn't _matter_. He was just -- " he trailed off, "Worried."

“Being ‘worried’ does not give anyone, not even Optimus Prime, an excuse to lambast you without giving you a chance to defend yourself or your actions,” Rung told him gently, “It mattered to _you_ , Rodimus. It hurt you. What he may have intended doesn’t make up for that. And that fault falls squarely on his shoulders, not yours.”

Rodimus squirmed again, dropping his hands. "He didn't -- it wasn't lambasting. I mean Optimus was _right._ I do leap before I look. I don't exactly have a reputation of stable romantic relationships and he's not the only one that thinks I'm rushing into this thing with Megatron. And," Rodimus' plating slicked down just at the thought, "Optimus is right, when we find the Knights, Megatron will -- he'll be -- " He huffed out atmosphere through his vents. "If the search goes on too long he'll -- frag."

“I don’t think I or anyone else on this ship would call what the two of you are doing _rushing_ ,” Rung said, “The two of you have been courting and frankly have been taking things relatively slow compared to some of the other couples on the ship.”

"Nah, Ratchet and Drift are about a million or so years in the making," Rodimus defended. "And Chromedome and Rewind were together how long before they did the Ritus thing? Optimus he just -- wants the best for me -- for me to do better. I _am_ young comparatively to a lot of mechs, I am not --- very responsible. But he was slagging out of bounds of what he said about Megatron and -- " his voice dropped. He hadn't told anyone but Drift about _one_ thing that hurt the most that Optimus had said. 

“Whatever it is, Rodimus, you know you can tell me,” Rung said gently, “It never leaves this room.”

Rodimus gripped his knees, curling forward slightly as if making himself smaller would help in this situation. "He said," Rodimus vocalizer failed, and he rebooted with click,"he said I was -- whoring myself out to Megatron. That I -- I belittled -- disgraced myself and this -- " he touched the autobot emblem. He couldn't get out the bit about not deserving to have ever been a Prime. It was too close to what he sometimes believed. 

Rodimus heard Rung vent sharply, then the sound of his chair being pushed back and he very quickly had a view of orange peds and small, gentle hands on his shoulders. “Rodimus, what Optimus said to you was out of line and entirely incorrect. This,” Rung pointed to the emblem, “Is a symbol of freedom; of being able to make your own choices, right or wrong, because they are yours to make. You love Megatron. You cannot disgrace yourself or this emblem by being with him, because it’s what you want, and it makes you happy.”

"I do love him," Rodimus said quietly, hating how wet his optics were. "He's responsible for a lot death and destruction -- but so am I, and I love him."

Rung smiled, going back around his desk and retrieving a mesh cloth and handing it to Rodimus. “I think we’ll finish here for the orn, if that’s alright with you?”

Rodimus nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah, that's - yeah." He managed an awkward laugh.

Rung reached into his subspace, pulling out a box of rust sticks and offering them out. “You’re welcome to stay in here as long as you like, I don’t have any other appointments today. Having two other therapists on board has freed up my schedule considerably.”

"Thanks," Rodimus said, both for the offer and the rust stick. "Glad that's working out. Must be easier interacting with a lot of mechs now too. Sooo," Rodimus grinned wildly. "How's Whirl?"

“Whirl is doing quite well having sessions with Troubleshoot,” Rung said blithely.

Rodimus chuckled. "Now what's the unprofessional answer?" He teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rung coughed slightly, and Rodimus could see his faceplates heat.

"Course not," Rodimus said. "Hope he hasn’t been making you pay for your own engex at Swerve's." 

“If you’re going to make fun I’m going to take my candy back,” Rung threatened.

Rodimus held up a hand. "I'm not making fun, honest. I'm glad you two are enjoying whatever it is you have, you both deserve to be happy."

“Yes, well, don’t tell that to Whirl, I’m still working on getting him to see that,” Rung said, smiling a little sadly.

"Not a glyph I swear," Rodimus told him, then chuckled softly. "You know it's sorta strange how many ex-wreckers are on this ship."

“You do all seem to flock to each other,” Rung nodded, chuckling a little, “You’re comfortable with each other, it’s not a bad thing.”

Rodimus smiled a little less brightly. "Better than us loose cannons being on Cybertron with them trying to build peace and all."

“Well, if it’s all the same, I’m quite happy to be with all you ‘loose cannons’. It makes things very exciting.” Rung told him with a gentle smile.

Rubbing the back of his helm, Rodimus looked at him ruefully. "Exciting is the kindest way to put it. Thanks, Doc. I think I'm going to go find Drift - maybe get him to walk me through a few more sword forms. Seems to help, you know?" He got to his feet, as he pinged Drift to see if the other was available. 

Walking in to see The Hatchet with his glossa up Rodimus' best friend’s valve had taught him a lesson about inviting himself in unannounced. Like he really was happy for Drift and Ratchet, but he didn't want to see them doing _that._ Not again, anyway. 

"Do pass on my greetings to Drift," Rung said, with a smile. 

“Sure thing, Rung,” Rodimus said, waving over his shoulder as he exited the quiet, safe space of Rung’s office back onto the rest of his ship. He straightened his shoulders struts and while he didn't plaster a fake smile on he smiled a little brighter than he felt. Rung would probably say something about emotional honesty, but Rodimus also liked his crew to not freak out. 

Especially since anytime he looked less than happy these orns at least one mech seemed to blame Megatron for it. Slaggers. Some part of him -- a small part -- thought it was sweet that they worried ( _and he told himself that his fully healed palm didn’t and couldn't itch with the burn of laser carved numbers when he thought that_ ), but a low dip of his mood was not Megatron’s fault.

Well, sometimes it was, but, hey, even Rung said disagreements in couples were normal. The only argument they'd had recently was Rodimus not wanting to tell Megatron just what Optimus had said to him to make him so upset. Megs had been furious -- not at him, Rodimus knew -- and the ex-Warlord was still simmering slightly even now. 

And knowing logically Megatron wasn't upset with him didn't mean it didn't affect him. More than he'd let on to pretty much anyone because it was dumb and he knew it but --

But -- it just added to the terrible deep hidden - even from Rung though maybe the doc would drag it out of him yet - fear that Megatron would get tired of him or just tired of the slag that came along with Rodimus and --

Oh look there was Drift's door. Rodimus shook his head, pushing his thoughts to the back of his processor and sending Drift another ping. ::Let meee iiiinnn,:: he whined at the swordsmech, dragging out the last glyph.

A moment later the door slid open. "What are you a vorn old or something?" Drift laughed.

“Hey it always gets your attention,” Rodimus pointed out, grinning. A glance instead showed that Drift had already laid out mesh mats on the floor.

Drift slung an arm over his shoulder assembly and dragged him inside. He could smell incense, which he bet drove Ratchet into glitching, but Rodimus associated such smells with Drift so he liked it. "C'mon no loitering in the halls. I want to see if you've been practicing."

“It’s kinda hard to practice sword forms when I don’t actually have a sword," Rodimus protested as he always did. 

"Nice try, Roddy, you haven't earned a real sword yet," Drift chuckled. "Are you saying you don't appreciate the effort I put into making you a foam practice sword? My aura will suffer from this."

Rodimus groaned. "I'm not Ratchet don't start the overboard woo stuff."

Drift chuckled. “I do not go overboard on the ‘woo stuff’ as you two so politely call it,” Drift said, shutting the door behind Rodimus, “How was your session with Rung? You don’t normally want to do sword forms with me so soon after.”

"I think I'm going to pick a new less perceptive best friend," Rodimus complained without any really bite or intent. He leaned into Drift. "We talked about the whole Optimus thing."

“Ahh,” Drift said; he’d been the first one Rodimus had went to after the “Optimus thing,” as he so tactfully put it, “You okay?”

Rodimus thought about lying for a half a klik. "No."

Drift reached over, pulling Rodimus into a hug. “Wanna talk about it?” He asked, rubbing Rodimus’ back and shoulders between his spoiler, foregoing the mats and leading him over to sit down on the couch against the wall instead.

Curling into his friend's frame and field, Rodimus clicked with distress like a new build. "We talked about Optimus calling me a whore." He tucked his pedes under him on the couch. It wasn't as plush as his own, but the feel and firmness of it somehow translated into _safe_ and comfort in his processor because it belonged to Drift. 

“You know that isn’t true, Roddy,” Drift told him, reaching up and rubbing his spoiler, which was _totally cheating_ and Drift knew it, but Rodimus melted against him anyway, purring, “Words like that only have power over you if you let them.”

Rodimus whined, letting himself be pulled to the couch. "I _know_. Doesn’t make me feel less like slag. I should be more upset about him implying Megatron's just using me. I already knew Optimus thinks I shouldn't be Captain. I know I should be over this. It was just _words_ and who cares what slagging Optimus Prime thinks about me and the mech I love?"

“Well, you do, obviously,” Drift said, hands gently on his frame. “No offense, Rodimus, but you need a better idol. I mean Megatron isn’t even paying you.”

Rodimus let out a burst of laughter. "And we're not even fragging," he agreed, managing a bit of a smile, that quickly faltered. "I didn't expect him to be happy for me, I mean it _is_ Megatron. I just didn't think he'd alternate between accusing Megatron of manipulating me or outright forcing me and saying I'm a bit of shareware that disgraced the emblem, the quest, and the title of Prime." 

“Considering some of the mechs he’s let wear this,” Drift said, gesturing to his own emblem, “I don’t think he really has any right to say that you and you alone have disgraced it. Last I checked _Megatron_ is wearing one of these too, and somehow I think my past is more disgraceful than who you’re kissing. Besides, given some of the things I’ve heard, I don’t think he’s got a leg to stand on calling you out for being in love with Megatron.”

"You haven't disgraced anything," Rodimus rumbled, pushing their forehelms together. "You earned the badge tens time over anything I've ever done, so don't ever imply that about my best friend."

Drift laughed warmly, nuzzling Rodimus, “See? How could a mech as sweet and loyal as you be a disgrace to anything?” 

Rodimus pulled a face. "I'm not sweet," he protested, even as he nuzzled Drift back. 

“The sweetest. Bet I could get Megatron to agree with me, too.” Drift teased.

Heat and color flooded Rodimus' face plates, as he shifted into a more comfortable recline against Drift's steady frame. "Please don't, he'll write me another poem."

“I thought you liked his poems, you wouldn’t stop talking about that one he wrote you, how’d it go--”

Rodimus pushed his hand over Drift's mouth, laughing. "I adore his poems. I just don't want one about how _sweet_ I am. Not unless it's a limerick or something like one of the erotic ones that was in that collection of his early works I found. He _still_ won't tell me who that mech is either. Even after I promised not to rub it in their face that he was all mine now."

Drift laughed, leaning his head back to get his mouth out from under Rodimus’ hand. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” he teased.

“Oh Primus can we just get to the sword forms, you don’t talk when we’re doing sword forms,” Rodimus groaned, knocking their forehelms gently together again. He pressed his hand against Drift's badge. "You know you deserve this badge, though right? You deserve it more than a lot of mechs."

“You deserve it too,” Drift told him, pressing his hand over Rodimus’, “Come on, sword forms it is, then. If you haven’t been practicing I’m making you do extra.”

Rodimus whined and let his shoulders drop in mock sulkiness. "You're no fun," he accused.

Drift pushed him off the couch.

\--


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to harutemu for the beta!

 

\----

 

 

Whether coming or going Megatron always paused at the sight of his closed door. More accurately the mural Rodimus had painted there when they had first started courting so many decacycles ago. His spark always fluttered in an embarrassing newbuild’s first crush way that someone had done this for him.

That Rodimus, the bright sun in his new life, had painted this for him as visible proof of his affection and intentions for the mech that had once shot him. These orns he was more likely to step in between Rodimus and the one firing on him. His servos traced over one of the painted crystals as blue and vivid has he remember, as his poem had spoke.

A younger him would have given Rodimus shards of crystals. Written verse made clumsy by adoration. 

Megatron had already been edged with bitterness and rage when he'd met Orion. Though he wrote poems for and about Orion Pax, now they all read a little artificial and spoke of a writer trying perhaps a little too hard to impress a mech he knew he couldn't have. He could no longer remember the true intent of those poems. 

He shook his helm slightly. He needed to stop standing here dwelling on the past, Rodimus was waiting on him. Maybe later he'd attempt to pour whatever was swirling in his processor into glyphs. 

Maybe he'd write Rodimus a clumsy, halting poem too full of affection and praise, then read it out loud to him. If just to watch the way Rodimus' glowed and feel his field dance as it did whenever Megatron read a poem made just for him.

Megatron turned and made his way down the halls, his steps ringing out in the quiet hallways. The few mechs he passed just nodded and went about their business. Fewer mechs stared at his crest these orns, which he was grateful for. He'd never get the smiles and greetings Rodimus did going through the halls, but it was enough for him that he wasn't openly or even privately hated as much now. 

If only for Rodimus' sake. 

He entered the lift and pushed the key for the floor where Swerve's Bar was. Rodimus was meeting him there. For a 'date', he'd said. Megatron would have been just as content, if not more, to just spend time in one of their quarters together, but Rodimus - despite what many might think -- asked for very few things and Megaron couldn't bring himself to refuse when Rodimus would request something.

Rodimus' request -- his pleading really -- to not call Optimus Prime and give him a piece of his brain module, had tested that. In the end, his desire to ease Rodimus' distress won out over his rage against Optimus. Which was, admittedly, a first. Rung had called it great progress, given how easily angered by Optimus Megatron used to be, and how long he could and usually would hold a grudge, despite the detriment to himself and others.

As the floors went by Megatron contemplated that it was -- nice was too weak of a word -- well it felt good to be able to modulate his anger. Before the Lost Light when was the last time he had ruled his anger and not the other way around? 

Riptide and Hound got on the lift at one the hab-suite floors. Riptide grinned. "Got a date, Captain?"

"I do," Megatron told him. "Are you two on your way to Swerve’s as well?" 

"Yeah," Hound said nodding. "Synth mixed up what she calls “Camien specials.” Troubleshoot has been warning mechs about them all orn."

"So of course it will be packed," Megatron chuckled dryly. "I suppose we can all rest easy knowing First Aid will be nearby."

Both mechs snickered good naturedly. “Yeah. It true Ratchet kicked ‘em both out of the medbay a couple orns ago?” Riptide asked curiously.

Megatron schooled his features. "You'd have to ask Ratchet about that. The medibay is partly his domain."

Hound chuckled. The lift slowed and pinged and Hound and Riptide preceded Megatron off the lift. Those were not two mechs Megatron would have seen having a friendship, but he also would never have seen himself as friends with Ultra Magnus among others. He followed them off the lift heading in the direction of Swerve's. 

Ten and his colorful paint job - which became more colorful with each orn - was cheerfully standing as bouncer making sure the no weapons and no briefcases rule was being enforced. Brainstorm got an extra look over.

The Bar wasn't packed but was a bit more crowded than normal for this time of orn on ship. Megatron forced himself not to shift at the unwelcome glares from certain mechs. He would ask Rodimus after a drink if they could retire to one of their quarters. He'd never been one for crowded bars, not since that night at Maccadams'. 

He scanned the room, his crest flaring as well, looking for a sign of Rodimus. Hm, he wasn't there yet. 

Velocity spotted him from her table with Troubleshoot, Nautica, Skids, and Perceptor and waved him over with a smile. He returned the smile, crossing the room to their table. He glanced at the oddly colored drinks in front of many the mechs. “Synth’s work, I take it?” 

"Yes," Troubleshoot said, with a deep ex-vent like the drinks were the cause of all the universe’s ills. "She seems to have stuck with only consumables this time." 

Nautica giggled, leaning slightly into Skids. "She probably didn't want to loose her bar privileges."

"Or she wished to impress a certain medic with her skill and not create more work for him," Perceptor said with a hint of a smile. "Will you join us, Megatron?"

“Some other time perhaps. I have a prior obligation tonight,” Megatron declined.

“Ooh, date with Rodimus?” Nautica grinned. She had definitely already had a few of the drinks.

Skids chuckled. "Rodimus would be put out if it wasn't with him."

"He could be meeting with Ultra Magnus to discuss things over drinks," Velocity offered, not quite keeping a straight face. 

“Magnus doesn’t drink,” Perceptor said, “Ever.”

"He has those engeron spritzers things," Nautica protested. "That's sort of like drinking. Barely."

“There’s nothing wrong with Zinc-Magnesium Engeron Spritzers or not being fond of being overcharged,” Troubleshoot said firmly, with a hint of color in her face plating,“It can be extremely unnerving to mechs with a need for control like Ultra Magnus to suddenly lose that control because of --”

“Hey, what’d we say about working off the clock?” Nautica teased, elbowing Troubleshoot, “You know the rules, drink up, Troubs!”

Troubleshoot shuttered her optics, then ex-vented, looking embarrassed as Nautica shoved a shot glass into her servos. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to this forfeit,” she muttered, looking at the drink before ex-venting again, her optics flicked towards the bar, before tipping it back.

"Nautica told Synth she’d try to get Troubleshoot to relax some," Skids told Megatron shaking his helm. "I'm not sure how the rest of us got pulled into it."

Nautica made a face up at Skids. "Nice backup."

Skids shrugged."Nothing in the rules says I have to back up you up," he teased.

Megatron watched the exchanges with amusement and a certain warmth in his spark. "Perhaps I will join you until Rodimus arrives --"

"Howzabout you haul your scrap-aft self outta of this bar and leave Roddy be, you over sized hunk of flintstone," came an angry overcharged voice to his left.

"Dipstick, really," Perceptor said. "That was hardly called for."

Megatron turned to see the smaller mech, Dipstick Perceptor had called him but Megatron couldn't recall having much interaction with him before. "I am sorry you feel that way," Megatron allowed wanting to diffuse things. He was all too aware of optics focusing on him. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation in Swerve's Bar.

"You going to fragging leave?" Dipstick asked.

"He doesn't have to leave," Swerve said, passing by with a tray of Synth's drinks. "I'm cutting you off, Dip. Go work off some charge or something."

A few more optics turned Megatron's way. His sensors crest flared. "If you to speak about your issue with me at a time you are not overcharged I would welcome it. Right now I am waiting for Rodimus. If you'll excuse me -- "

Dipstick's expression turned thunderous. "No, we're going to frelling talk now."

Megatron could see subtle movements out of the corners of his optics; Preceptor's mouth curving into a frown, Whirl starting to rise up from the booth he was in despite the hand Rung had on his arm, mechs looking away or looking towards them.

“That’s enough, Dipstick,” Perceptor said from behind Megatron, voice more firm, hard. The voice of a soldier not a scientist. 

"It'll be enough, Percy, when this thunder-headed buckethead gets his final sentence from the Knights if we ever find those slaggers," Dipstick thundered, "Millions -- _ _trillions__ died. So many I can't even wrap my processor around it. And then you get to sit in that Captain's chair and you put your hands all over Roddy who never learned to dislike anyone that was nice to him --"

Megatron's instincts warred with themselves; how __dare__ this mech use Rodimus like that, how dare he speak to Megatron that way -- he had the __right__ to be angry, and to express that anger. But Megatron controlled __his__ anger, not the other way around. He would not fight. The moment he deleted the possibility of inflicting violence out of the chain of current processes in his processor, his stance and frame adjusted. His crest and plating slicked down tight against his frame, a maneuver to protect the more delicate wiring and protoform beneath the armor. No, he would not fight Dipstick -- his processor was already mapping out the best path to escape, he would make it up to Rodimus later. 

Primus, he had never felt less like a former warlord and more like the miner that hid under tables during bar fights than in this moment.

“Shut your __frelling intake__ , Dipstick,” an angry voice came from behind the ex-Wrecker this time, and every optic in the bar turned to see an absolutely __fuming__ Rodimus standing in the doorway with Ultra Magnus behind him ( _ _ah__ , went part of Megatron’s processor, __that’s why he was late__ ). The bar had gone, if it was possible, even more hushed. "Where the frag do you get off? One for being an aft in public, two for acting like a fellow ex-Wrecker needs protecting, three for acting like our - like the Autobots’ - hands aren't dirty too."

Ultra Magnus laid a hand on Rodimus’ shoulder, looking a touched pained. "Rodimus, this is hardly the place--"

Rodimus held up a hand, then stalked forward towards Dipstick. "Look you're worried about me, you're worried about Megatron never getting punished, yeah I fragging get that Dipstick. But he has punished himself more than we or death ever could." Rodimus expression went pained. "And in the end of all this the Knights could declare him guilty and uphold the death sentence Optimus laid out. But don't act like I'm some innocent, naive newbuild. Don't act like the Autobots, the Wreckers, like _ _I__ don't have spilled energon __dripping__ off our hands." He paused, voice dropping. "I burned Nyon into slag, Dipstick." 

Dipstick looked like __he__ wanted to comfort Rodimus now.

Megatron braced a hand against Rodimus' back just under his spoilers. He pressed reassurance through his field into Rodimus'. :: _ _Rodimus. Enough. That's enough.__ ::

"I -- just go recharge off your buzz, Dipstick," Rodimus finally finished, his spoilers slumping.

Every optic was quickly finding somewhere else to look except for a select few. Megatron wasn't sure if that was a blessing or not as Velocity gave them a sympathetic look.

"I'll escort him," Troubleshoot offered, rising to her pedes gracefully. It reminded Megatron oddly of some of the senators from the old days, but not in a bad way he found. "It'll give us a chance to make an appointment."

"I -- frell yeah, okay," Dipstick muttered.

Megatron was only half-aware of Troubleshoot walking out with the overcharged ex-Wrecker and exchanging polite nods at the door with Ultra Magnus, as Rodimus had reached up and pulled his face down to look at him. “I’m sorry,” Rodimus murmured, grimacing, “Me and Mags got caught up finishing some stuff, and he was heading this way anyway so I figured I’d wait for him so we could walk down together and --”

"Rodimus, this wasn't your fault. There will always be mechs that dislike and hate me," Megatron told him, capturing his hands and wrapping their fields closer together. He touched their helms together, and ignored the not-so-quiet ‘awwwww’ from at least three different directions. And one soft 'you're recording this right?', "Do you want to still stay for one of Synth's drinks?"

“Do you?” He asked, frowning, “Your crest’s all wilted. My poor flower."

Megatron felt his face plates heat. “Rodimus I am not a flower, I do not __wilt__."

There was another soft chorus of aws. Megatron's discomfort and linger traces of fear were almost overwhelmed by embarrassment. If this __ever__ got played at 'movie night' Megatron would help Ultra Magnus give out fines and write ups for tiny infractions. Not that Magnus did that much these orns.

"But you are! Your poor head flower is all wilty," Rodimus teased, though he commed. :: _ _We can leave if you want. That was the pit. Wouldn't blame you for wanting to cut out.::__

Megatron clapped a hand over Rodimus’ mouth. “I think I have had quite enough excitement for tonight,” he murmured after a moment of consideration.

Nautica giggled behind her drink. 

Perceptor nodded to them both, retaking his seat beside Velocity who gave them both another smile. Megatron caught sight of Tailgate snuggled close to Cyclonus, the larger mech's head bent over the small minibot. 

"Roddy," Swerve said, holding out two closed cubes containing something that looked like the Synth drinks. "On the house."

"Aw that's not fair," Whirl said overly loud. 

"Whirl," Rung admonished much more softly.

"Thank you," Megatron said, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

“Yeah, thanks, Swerve,” Rodimus said, his own smile much larger. He took the cubes in one hand and twined the servos of his other hand through one of Megatron’s and tugging him towards the door. Ultra Magnus nodded to them as the passed.

:: _ _If you wish to press charges, Megatron, it would be in your right. You are Captain.::__ Ultra Magnus commed.

:: _ _No, it's fine, Magnus. Let the mech recharge it off. It was just words. I've said far worse to myself.::__

"Ten," Ten said waving to them. 

"Rodimus -- " Megatron started as they entered the lift, only to find himself shoved - or attempted to be shoved - against one of the lift walls and being pulled down for a furious kiss. After a moment of shock, Megatron put a hand on Rodimus’ chest, pushing him back slightly, “Rodimus, __what__ \--”

Rodimus whined low in his intake and tried to kiss him again. "I know what I'm doing. I want to be with you and no amount of well meaning or otherwise mechs are going to scare me away. Dipstick was wrong, Optimus was wrong. Wrong about you and wrong about _ _me__."

Megatron palmed Rodimus' face. "In a way they weren't," he said softly. "I caused the deactivation of more mechs than even I can fathom. And oh my Rodimus, my shining sun-- " he pressed their helms together again. "I deserved their words, but you didn't deserve to be hurt by those only seeking to hurt me. I'm sorry our evening was ruined."

“If I hadn’t been late he wouldn’t of dared pull that slag,” Rodimus muttered, ex-venting, “I had a plan and everything.”

"Rodimus," Megatron started, then, "Rodimus," more firmly, until the young Prime looked at him. "This was not your fault. It could have happened even if you were there. It's been dealt with -- and I don't think it is Dipstick's words that have you so upset."

Rodimus engine rumbled in frustration, his field going spikey. "Why aren't you upset? You felt and looked like you were going to run in terror when I got there!"

Megatron grimaced. He had hoped it hadn’t been quite so obvious, “I -- suppose I partly felt as though I deserved it, and some of it was just old instincts,” he admitted, and he had a feeling that Rung was going to be bringing that up next time they had a session, “And some of it is that I would rather have mechs take their frustrations at our relationship out on me than on you.”

“I don’t __want__ you to --”

“I know, Rodimus. But I cannot help what I want. Case in point,” Megatron said wryly, nudging Rodimus’ chin with his servos, “Besides, I could hardly be upset when my knight in ridiculously vibrant armor came charging in to save the orn,” he teased, and in a small way admitting he'd been paying attention to some of those earth tales Rodimus had been telling him some nights.

It was a nice change from earlier to have Rodimus being the one flushing in embarrassment. “I just -- I don’t like when you’re upset, it’s not fair when I’m the one who started this whole thing.”

Megatron chuckled, kissing Rodimus’ forehelm. “Your concern, as always, is touching, Rodimus,” Megatron told him. It was also -- familiar, reminding Megatron of another mech who believed Megatron’s well-being and words were more important than his own, “Since your plans for the evening have been sadly derailed, allow me to make it up to you?”

“Make it up to me how?” Rodimus asked as the elevator doors opened.

Megatron smiled, wrapping an arm around Rodimus’ waist, gently leading him out into the hall and toward Rodimus’ hab-suite. “I’d like to tell you a story, about a mech I used to know named Terminus...”

 

 

\----

 


	3. Interlude: Swerve's Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closing time at Swerve's after the incident with Megatron and Dipstick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to our beta harutemu who helps keep us sane (sometimes).

**Interlude**

\---

Swerve looked up when the doors slide open. It was pretty much closing time so he wasn't expecting anyone to be coming in - just leaving. "Oh, hey Trouble. Didn't think we'd see you again tonight.”

Trouble made her way over to the bar, glancing over at Synth and First Aid sitting at one of the tables. The two had been sitting there helm to helm giggling and whispering to each other for a while now. It was sickeningly cute and Swerve couldn't stop grinning.

"I wanted to make sure Synth hadn’t set anything on fire or melted anyone with her drinks," Troubleshoot said smoothly, sitting down on one of the stools. 

"Love you too, Trouble!" Synth called over.

Troubleshoot exvented and shook her helm, before turning gold optics on him. "How were things after I left? I trust Ultra Magnus made sure there was no more trouble? I am a little surprised to see he is not still here."

"Bars aren't really Mag’s thing," Swerve told her. He sorta wished Magnus had stuck around for a while. Sometimes it felt like he never got to see the mech he was technically dating. "And Megatron and Roddi didn't stick around long after you left. Can't blame them." 

“I didn’t expect them to, really,” Troubleshoot said. "While in some part perhaps some of what was said is technically true Dipstick's comments were excessively cruel especially in his delivery." She paused, servos playing with a coaster left on the bar. "I understand that those sentiments were more commonly shared by the crew as a whole when Megatron first 'joined'," and wow he could _hear_ the air quotes there, that was impressive, "the crew. I believe I have a lot more military and societal history to read up on to correctly help those on this ship. The gaps in my knowledge are not acceptable."

"Wow no wonder you and Percy get along," Swerve laughed. 

Troubleshoot’s optics shuttered slightly, “What do you mean?”

"Nothing bad!" He protested, holding up his hands, one still holding the mesh he was cleaning the bar with, "Promise. Just the way you talk. He doesn't do it quite as much anymore outside the lab -- Roddi broke him of it by wandering off half way through sentences I think -- I swear if we were human I'd think he had adhd or something like it -- but yeah I mean it's not a bad thing at all. Just that you two mesh well, use the same sorta glyphs."

“Oh,” Trouble laughed, “I’ve been informed my particular brand of elocution tends toward sesquipedalian loquaciousness.”

“Now she’s just doing it on purpose!” Synth yelled.

“Stop eavesdropping and pay attention to your date, Synth, it’s very rude.” Troubleshoot replied coolly.

Synth giggled loudly, and then was suddenly very quiet. Swerve glanced over and yep First Aid had finally worked up the nerves to kiss her. Go First Aid. 

"They're adorable," Swerve chuckled.

“Well, I certainly approve of First Aid more than her last romantic interest,” Trouble smiled softly.

Swerve went back to wiping down the bar. "Yeah? That's good then. First Aid's a good mech and a good doc. I was kinda surprised at first since I thought he was still carrying a torch for Springer -- he's such a Wrecker Fan-bot let me tell you -- but I'm happy for him. And her, Synth's a good mech -- femme? How do you guys like to be referred to anyways? I'd of asked Nautica or Velocity but Nautica has this habit of pinching my face plates when she thinks I'm being cute which apparently I am often according to her."

Troubleshoot laughed, “Yes, well, from what I’ve gleaned Synth would apparently have made a decent ‘Wrecker,’ which I understand is something of a glowing compliment coming from Whirl. Something about a love of explosions? And Synth prefers ‘femme,’ though personally I don’t have any strong feelings either way,” she shrugged delicately. "I'm unsure what Nautica and Velocity prefer I never really moved in the same circles. Even though most seem to think anyone that is not in the arts knows each other. As if the colony could function if some of us didn't have other functions that called to us besides the arts." A touch of bitterness leaked into Trouble’s glyphs at her words.

“Seems like a psychologist’d at least get a little bit of respect, y’know? You don’t wanna be rude to the mech figuratively poking around your brain module,” Swerve said.

Troubleshoot’s optics shuttered once, twice, before she let out a small, “Oh! Oh, well, yes, but it was looked upon as more of a -- oh, an unfortunate necessity. I wasn’t openly disrespected, but I never got the same level of courtesy and respect Rung does here. My patients appreciated me, the rest of society…” Troubleshoot grimaced, her servos fussing with the coaster again, “I was doing a necessary service, but not one viewed as particularly admirable or commendable. Which was and still is ridiculous, frankly. It’s the reason I jumped at the chance to ply my trade elsewhere, so to speak, when Windblade asked me to come to the Lost Light.”

Swerve frowned, pausing his movements. "That's -- that's slag. As much slag as the functionalist scrap on Cybertron was. I wondered why Nautica and Velocity didn't talk about home that much. I guess science and medical isn't seen all that highly either, then?"

“Camien had it’s share of problems just like everywhere else,” Troubleshoot acknowledged, “And… no, not really. Synth’s decision to give up dance in favor of bioelectrical chemistry, while she did not seem to notice a good deal of it, was not looked kindly upon. Although I’m not sure whether that was because of her choice of focus, or her love of making things explode,” Troubleshoot joked, laughing lightly, “She was a lovely dancer, it just didn't call to her spark."

“And making things go boom did,” Swerve grinned, “As does mixing up a mean drink.”

“Mm, yes,” Troubleshoot said wryly, “Thank you for indulging that, by the way, even at the risk of losing your customers to my amica’s -- interesting tastes. And for making sure she stuck to consumables only with her, ah, ‘specials’ tonight.”

“Heh… noticed that huh?” Swerve gave up trying to look like he was cleaning and leaned against the bar.

“I’ve had Synth’s drinks before, in my occasional lapses of good judgement,” Troubleshoot allowed delicately. Her servos absently flipped the coaster about. They reminded him of Minimus' -- long delicate servos that would be great for getting into seams and wire bundles and _no_ bad Swerve, no energon goodie, _he had a shift to finish_ and a bar to clean before even thinking about _any_ form of the ship's SIC. 

“I can hear you, y’know!” Synth giggled more than she shouted. 

"I know you can," Troubleshoot commented with a smile, “First Aid do us all a favor and distract her some more.”

First Aid stammered a bit before Synth kissed _him_.

"Don't worry I'm going to be throwing you all out soon to close down soon," Swerve told her, with another wide grin. He could see Bluestreak was already collecting glasses and gave him a nod. Good mech, Swerve was glad he'd let him start helping out even if it had started as cover for the fact he'd been slowly dying. Alone. In his hab-suite. Uh, he'd better not dwell on that. "Do you want a drink before that?"

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you have to do any extra cleaning up.”

"One more glass won't do much in causing more clean up."

“If you’re sure, then,” Troubleshoot smiled, “Surprise me. I defer to your superior knowledge of engex.”

Swerve grinned at the challenge, playfully stretching his servos. "Well, let's see. You like sweet-sour flavors, but nothing too strong, and you like them better when they’re colorful -- so I think I've got just the thing in mind."

“Think you definitely surprised her, Swerve!” Synth laughed from across the bar as Troubleshoot blushed, optics flickering in surprise.

The psychologist’s field flushed with embarrassment as brightly as her faceplates -- and a hint of flattery. “I’m just -- impressed that you managed to glean all that from the few times I’ve actually drank anything here.”

He ducked his helm slightly, then turned to busy himself with engex and additives to hide his engeron pinked faceplates. "It's my job as a bartender," he mumbled, as he mixed something up he'd been thinking of giving her to try anyways. "Here you go, one Trouble for Trouble."

“Did -- did you name a drink after me?” Troubleshoot asked, laughing.

Swerve grinned at her again. "Yep! Well, if you like it. Still working on one to name after Magnus. Thinking about making a whole board of specials named after mechs on the ship -- you should see Rodimus’."

“I imagine it’s atrociously bright and burns on the way down?” She asked wryly, taking sip out of the glass and -- squeaking? 

Primus, that was _adorable._

“She likes it, praise be to Primus, someone actually got her to like engex!” Synth teased, dissolving into more giggles.

“Synth, shut up,” Troubleshoot said not even looking over at her engex and love drunk amica, “It’s very good,” she added to Swerve, abashed.

He ducked his helm. "Thanks, it my job to figure out what customers like."

"You do a good job," Troubleshoot praised him. "You seem very happy in this role."

He shrugged, turning back around to work on cleaning glasses. "It's always been my dream. Turned out a bit different than my original plan, but I'm pretty happy."

"That's good," Troubleshoot told him. "Being able to adapt one's goals without abandoning them is - admirable," Troubleshoot's optics flickered slightly the corners of her mouth turning down almost imperceptibly in sadness. But before he could ask if something was wrong, she had finished the rest of her drink and stood, setting her glass on the bar and smiling at him warmly, "Thank you for the drink, Swerve, it was very good. Now I think I'd better get Synth out of your way so you can finish cleaning."

"Uh, yeah, no problem" he said, worry and the wonder if he'd just been seeing things as Troubleshoot made her way across the bar to lead her tipsy and giggling amica out.

"Night, Swerve," First Aid called as he left just behind them.

Swerve gave them a half wave and went back to closing down the bar for the night, his thoughts drifting back to earlier in the night and half wondering if Magnus would get annoyed if he went over there when he was done.

He wondered that the entire time he cleaned and chatted with Bluestreak. He wondered as he made his way through the mostly empty halls -- most mechs were recharging at time time -- to Ultra Magnus' hab-suite.

He even wondered as he hit the buzzer hoping he didn't wake Magnus.

Minimus opened the door, a data pad still in his hand. "Yes -- oh, hello Swerve. Is something the matter?"

“Nah, just… sorta wanted to see you? If that’s alright, I mean, I know it’s late and you’ve probably got a shift first thing --”

A smile bloomed across Minimus’ faceplates. "It is very alright, Swerve. I was having trouble falling into recharge. Your presence would be welcomed and enjoyable" He stepped back slightly, "Please, come in." 

Swerve smiled. “Happy to help.” As the door closed behind him, he leaned down slightly and kissed Minimus. "Always happy to help."


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shared stories, shared pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to our beta harutemu!

\-----------

 

Rodimus lay across Megatron's frame, chin resting on his chassis while his servos traced random patterns around his upper chest plates. Megatron's hand was curled about the back of his helm, his optics shuttered, lost in thought -- in the past. Rodimus knew how the past could come up and sink its denta into you and drag you straight back into the moment. Terminus had meant a lot to Megatron, still did it sounded like, and Rodimus knew the wounds that came from leaving people behind. How they could fester just under your plating until venom and poison dripped from your every move and glyph. 

"Thank you," Rodimus said softly, pushing himself up and forward so he could rest his forehelm against Megatron's. Digger used to do this with his bond-mate back in that tiny body shop on Nyon. He'd laughed kindly at Rodimus' confusion and told him kissing was 'new fangled' and not to always assume partners would have mouths for kissing. Digger had told him about touching forehelms meaning something -- he wished he'd paid attention to Digger more. "For sharing, for trusting me."

Megatron's servos stroked along his helm until he could rest them just under Rodimus' chin. "I wish to be joined with you in the eyes of Primus. Trust goes along with that."

Rodimus hadn't really known many couples that had become conjunx endura before Chromedome and Rewind -- and now Drift and Ratchet. Primus, he hadn't even known how to really do the amica endura thing -- Drift had to walk him through it. "Still, thank you." 

A soft smile and a flare of Megatron’s crest was Rodimus' reward . Rodimus loved how it made Megatron seem younger -- more like the mech that wrote poetry and touched Rodimus like he was something precious than the brutal Warlord that once shot him. There were things he couldn't forgive Megatron, that no one ever could, but he still loved him. 

If Starscream could become Leader of Cybertron and bring the lost Colonies home, Megatron could be an Autobot that wrote poems calling Rodimus the sun.

"He'd probably want you to stop blaming yourself for not looking for him," Rodimus murmured.

Megatron went still, his field pulling in tight. His optics were focused on Rodimus' but not really looking at him. Sixty kliks of that and Rodimus feared he'd finally fucked up like he knew he would from the very start.

"Maybe, but I should have looked until I found him. His life was more important than my writings," Megatron finally rumbled. His field gently expanded again, enveloping Rodimus. "That was the moment, I think. The moment I made the wrong step. I told Optimus it was when I ordered the first attack, but it was before then."

Rodimus shifted his weight and pressed a kiss against the side of Megatron's helm. "Does it help? Knowing that?"

Megatron's arms wrapped around Rodimus pulling him impossibly closer. "No. It doesn't."

"There was a mission I led when I was still just Hot Rod -- everything went bad, everything that could go wrong did. I had to leave the only one who survived behind -- and I hated myself. I hate leaving anyone behind -- I hate -- I know I can't save everyone. Nyon was a good lesson in that -- but I never could get the knack of not trying to save everyone ," he laughed shakily. "But yeah, Dealer -- he -- I thought he got grabbed -- I went into Styx. Got him out. Because I could at least save him, you know?" 

Megatron nodded, stroking Rodimus' hip just where the bio-light flared bright with each touch. He might even know what happened, Rodimus thought, though maybe not. "I know. Go on, Rodimus."

Rodimus laughed shakily again and curled forward resting their helms together again. "Turned out that Dealer was a traitor. That he'd caused everything, killed mechs that called him comrade and friend. And I deactivated him," he fell silent for a few kliks. "But I don't regret going back for him."

"You are the rarest and brightest of sparks," Megatron told him, cupping his cheek and drawing him into a kiss. 

“Preeeetty sure that’s you, big guy,” Rodimus chuckled, tapping on Megatron’s chest, above the glowing green .01% spark safely tucked away in the larger mech’s chamber.

Megatron huffed. "Brat," he told Rodimus in fond tones, using his free hand to smack Rodimus' aft gently.

“Ow, hey!” Rodimus yelped, more from surprise than any sort of pain, “Thought we said we were gonna talk about that before we played that game again,” he whined, trying for petulant but probably failing, considering he could barely stop himself from grinning.

"Brat," Megatron chuckled, rubbing Rodimus' aft gently. "And yes, we _are_ going to talk before we play that 'game' again." He held Rodimus' still for another kiss. "Though I will not object to playing a little tonight."

Rodimus wriggled in a way that would probably remind any mech who had ever set pede on earth of an excited puppy -- but the sharp little in-vent told him that Megatron had felt the purposeful little thrust of Rodimus’ hips against Megatron’s closed array. “I like playing.”

Megatron's hands encircled his waist. "Oh, I'm aware of that, my little Prime," he purred, dark and full of promise -- and oh, that was _unfair_ , Megatron _knew_ what that pet name in that tone of voice _did_ to Rodimus. "I'm just wondering how I wish to make you call out my designation tonight."

"Pfft, maybe I'll be making you scream my designation, old man," Rodimus shot back, rolling his hips again.

Megatron paused, tilting his head slightly. “Would that be something you would be interested in?”

Rodimus blinked. “What -- me spiking you?” Rodimus had -- actually never given that any thought. He liked Megatron spiking him -- he liked it _a lot_ , and come to think of it, they’d never done -- anything with Megatron’s valve involved. They hadn't been interfacing for all that long.

Megatron stroked up and down Rodimus' biolights with those clever amazing servos of his, sending processor stalling shivers up his frame. 

"Yes. You sliding that pretty spike into my valve and making me see Primus," Megatron purred, and pushed his own hips up into Rodimus', and wow that certainly was Rodimus’ array panel sending pings for permission to open wasn’t it. "It's not something I often indulged in during my functioning -- " Rodimus swore to Primus that if the name Optimus or Orion came from Megatron right now he _would_ throw a fit and possibly walk out, no matter how turned on he was. " -- But I enjoy it very much when it's with a mech I trust and care for."

Rodimus felt as though he should have been more embarrassed that _those words_ , of all things, were what made his array cover snap open. Megatron chuckled rough and pleased, servos slipping down to wrap around the pressurizing spike. 

"I -- yeah I can do that. No problem," Rodimus told him, cooling fans clicking up a few speeds to cope with the heat spike in his systems. His HUD helpfully informed him that charge was already building. Frag, he needed to get that under control. A few quick shifts in his priority trees had some of the charge rerouted to his spoiler where it still _felt_ good but would dissipate faster and not drive him over the edge. "If that's what you want -- if you think it'll be -- enough." 

He knew what he liked when getting spiked. A nice thick spike that stretched him almost to the point of pain. Ridges that would catch and rub all the nodes buried deep instead him. 

Megatron stroked his spike twice spreading the leaking lubricate along the length, drawing a rough cry from Rodimus. "You'll be perfect. You always are."

Heat bloomed over Rodimus’ face, but he ignored what had to be an obvious blush and leaned back to slip one of his hands between Megatron’s legs, “Yeah? Then open up for me,” he said, tapping his servos against Megatron’s array cover right over the bigger mech’s valve, “Sounds like I got a reputation to uphold.”

The soft sktst of an array panel disengaging and sliding back had never sounded so sexy. Thick servos teasing his vents never had either. He dug his own servos into the treads along the backs of Megatron's arms in retaliation. Megatron’s soft moan and the whirling of his fans tasted like victory. 

His entire field spoke _want_ to Rodimus'. 

Rodimus' leaned back, reaching behind him to push a servo, then quickly two servos, into Megatron's valve, the port already slick. "Someone's been thinking about this a lot," he accused affectionately. With the size difference and the way Megatron was already leaking -- he wouldn't need much prep.

Megatron tweaked his spoiler. _Scrap_ , it wasn't fair that felt so good.“If you’re just going to tease, you can go and I’ll handle it myself,” somehow, Megatron managed to sound unaffected despite the fact that Rodimus had two servos buried up to the last joint in his valve. The way his calipers cycled down around Rodimus’ digits, however, told another story.

“Really? Cuz I don’t think you want me to go anywhere,” Rodimus grinned, thrusting his servos a little roughly and getting a choked ‘hnngh’ from Megatron. He’d never heard him make that noise before, and _Primus_ did Rodimus want to make him make it again. His shoulder cuff was protesting the angle, but frag it. He shoved his servos in again, right against the one node he suspected got that lovely noise from Megatron.

" _Hnng_ ,"

Success. 

"Rodimus," Megatron purred, rubbing the head of Rodimus' spike. His other hand seemed be be everywhere -- dipping into his vents, stroking his spoiler, tracing transformation seams. 

"Hnnnnn, what?" He whimpered over the sound of their fans, a little dazed.

"Inside me, _now,"_ Megatron rumbled, his engine revving. 

Rodimus laughed like his vents weren't dragging in enough air - and with Megatron's servos' in them maybe they were. "That an order, Captain?"

"A request, my Prime," Megatron groaned. His servos abandoning Rodimus' spike -- and gaining a whine of protest -- to grab his hip to shift him down. "Will you fulfill this supplicant's humble plea?"

Rodimus’ engine revved a little louder than he would’ve liked at that and _why was Megatron so good at this_? 

“I am nothing if not generous,” Rodimus told him seriously, and okay, maybe that was a little bit too Optimus, because Megatron rolled his optics pretty hard, but Rodimus bent down to press a quick kiss against his lip plates before climbing off Megatron’s hips and settling between his legs. "My Protector never has to plead or be humble with me. He is my equal in all things and this I'll gladly grant for both our pleasures."

Okay, _that_ sounded like something from some romantic historical fantasy. 

Megatron's engine roared and he dragged Rodimus' back up for a fierce wet kiss. Rodimus made a very distracted mental note to read more historical fantasies as Megatron reluctantly finally let go of Rodimus so he could slid back down and re-settle between Megatron's powerful thighs.

The head of his spike nudged against Megatron’s valve, and his lover groaned. One of Megatron's hands clenching into the berth padding, the other pawing at any part of Rodimus’ frame in reach.

"Next time," Rodimus said, trying to keep his voice steady as his field dragged delight against Megatron's. He rubbed his spike around the glistening opening of Megatron's port watching the nodes light up and relishing each little sound and stalled fan, "We'll figure it out so I can kiss you at the same time."

"Yes," Megatron _whined_ , honest to Primus _whined._ He could see the growing charge dancing from the nodes and up his frame. 

Rodimus' HUD helpfully told him about the sudden spike in charge and oh hey his fans were almost at max. "Love you," he whispered stupidly and sappily, before sliding into Megatron as slowly as he could stand. Not because he thought Megatron couldn't handle his spike -- but because if he went too fast he'd overload before this even started. 

Going slowly also gave the added bonus of watching Megatron’s face screw up in pleasure as Rodimus’ spike slid over his already overcharged nodes, and Rodimus was suddenly starting to understand why Megatron took his time ‘facing him if he looked half as good as this. 

"My Rodimus." It was a plea. Rodimus took one of the offered hands, twining their servos together tight.

Rodimus' engine purred and he leaned down a little more to run his glossa over Megatron's chest seams, just as his spike settled into Megatron's deliciously warm and tightening valve. "Primus, you feel _good_." He twisted his hips just a bit to settle in a little deeper and --

Megatron overloaded. 

His back arched up uncontrolled while his optics went a whitish green. His vocalizer spit static around glyphs that could have been Rodimus' name. Or maybe Primus'. 

Rodimus intended to ride it out, to watch Megatron be consumed by pleasure and see him safely to the other side before moving. But -- 

He thrust once -- twice -- and then was helpless to the call of Megatron's field. He fell helm first into his own overload. If he called out anything he couldn't hear it over the roar of their fans and engines. 

Rodimus only faintly felt himself collapse across Megatron’s front, his head laying on his lover’s chestplate, and he swore he could _hear_ Megatron’s spark pulsing through the armor there; it sent a warm, pleased feeling through his own, and a faint, lingering _ache_ of want. 

He traced a single servo down Megatron's chest seam, listening to their fans start to slow and the metal of their frames ping as they cooled. Megatron's hand folded over his a tinge of regret in his field. “Rodimus --” he started softly.

And there went the afterglow -- Rodimus didn’t want to have this conversation again; about why Megatron wouldn’t spark bond with him, or even just merge, how it was too dangerous and selfish when at the end of this journey, he would probably be -- so he changed the subject. “So, I was thinking we should ask Magnus to do the bonding ceremony,” he said, servos curling into a loose fist so he wouldn’t be tempted to trace over that seam again, “Or, y’know, Minimus, whichever he’s more comfortable with.”

"Not Drift?" Megatron asked, stroking his thumb across the back of Rodimus' hand.

“Mm, thought about it, but I want my amica as my witness,” Rodimus said, “Besides, Magnus is second in command, so he’s got the most authority on the ship behind us.”

Rodimus swore he could _hear_ Megatron's smile before he said, "Not Thunderclash?" He teased.

Rodimus thought he'd better be teasing. He turned his helm to press his face into Megatron's chest plates making a wounded sound. "That was mean. I'm deeply wounded and might never recover," he dead panned. He really didn't hate Thunderclash -- the guy just got under his plating.

Megatron laughed, deep and whole-sparked enough to shake Rodimus slightly, “I’m sure you’ll manage,” Megatron told him once he was done laughing at him -- _rude_ \-- nudging his chin up to look at him, “I’m sure I can make it up to you somehow.”

"Hmmm," Rodimus purred, stretching lazily. "I'm sure you can. Maybe while we soak in a nice warm oil bath. We can ask Mags tomorrow."

Megatron chuckled, “I suppose given that my Prime saw fit to indulge me, I can indulge him,” he rumbled right back, sitting them both up.

“Mm, Megs, I will indulge you like that _any time_ ,” Rodimus laughed, still draped carelessly across Megatron’s chest, “Now, about that oil bath and you making it up to me…?”

 

\-----------

 


	5. Chapter 4: Ultra Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra Magnus is pretty content with things. Even if his Captains make him worry some orns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to our lovely beta harutemu

Chapter 4: Ultra Magnus 

Ultra Magnus had been sure that, after all his time on the Lost Light, nothing would ever surprise him again. He was, in fact, certain of it.

And so, of course, Rodimus took it upon himself to smash that certainty into a thousand shimmering pieces in a single, innocuous sentence: 

“Hey Mags, Megatron and I were wondering if you’d be interested in officiating our bonding ceremony?” Rodimus asked, wide happy grin spread across his faceplates, as he looked up from what appeared to be paint samples and paint combos spread all over his desk. 

“I -- what?” Magnus asked, shocked.

Rodimus bounced a little, his spoiler twitching. "We want you to officiate our bonding. Drift's standing as my witness, so he can’t do it, and me and Megatron talked and we think you'd be the best person - both as our friend and as the second in command and stuff."

“You’re going to -- you want… me to officiate?” He asked, making sure he was hearing this right.

Bright yellow spoilers drooped. “Well, yeah, I mean if you want. You don’t have to --”

Ultra Magnus shook his head, “No, it’s not that. I’m flattered, I was just shocked. Do you mind if I speak to Megatron first?”

"Of course!" Rodimus responded instantly. "Uh, I mean of course you can talk to him first. I'm still trying to figure paint schemes. Megatron doesn't want anything too showy and well gunmetal grey is just hard to integrate, you know? Slag wish Sunstreaker was still on board he's was better at this. Ten just suggested flowers and that's just not the right look for Captains."

“I don’t know I think you’d look rather fetching in paisley,” Ultra Magnus chuckled.

Rodimus made a sound that was a cross between despair and retching. " _Paisley?!_ "

Ultra Magnus just smiled.

"No, just no," Rodimus groaned, banging his helm slightly on his desk. "I feel the need to warn Swerve in advance. I think I liked you better before you had a sense of humor" 

Magnus chuckled. "No you didn't."

Rodimus grinned. "No, I didn't. Go talk to Megatron, he's probably making Ravage listen to him write his vows."

“You say that as if it is a bad thing,” Magnus chided. 

"It is if you’re Ravage," Rodimus joked, before holding up two paint chips, a red about Rodimus' shade and a gold. "What do you think about these for Megatron? I’m thinking thinking red detailing on the black of his transformation seams, though I'm still not sure about the placement of the gold--"

“Rodimus. If you wish for opinions about color, I would go to Ten. It is not exactly my area of expertise,” Magnus reminded him, smiling slightly, “For the record, though, I believe the gold would make a nice accent for his sensor crest if you could find a gentle enough paint.”

Rodimus considered the gold paint for a moment then grinned wide. "Yes! That’d be perfect, Mags! Thanks." 

Magnus swore that mech bounced more than an overactive sparkling -- oh dear Rung was right he did sound his full age sometimes didn't he? "You're welcome, Rodimus. I will leave you to your -- work. Please try to get to the forms this orn?"

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to it.” Rodimus promised, waving him away with one hand, still completely absorbed in the paint samples.

With a huff of his vents, Magnus left his young Captain to his 'work' to visit his other Captain. 

\-----

“Oh thank Primus,” Ravage sighed as the door to Megatron’s hab-suite opened to reveal the second in command standing there.

Megatron glared over his shoulder at Ravage, “Is there something I can help you with, Ultra Magnus?”

"I'd like to speak to you about something Rodimus mentioned to me earlier. About you two bonding?" he tried not to have any judgement in his voice. He just wanted to talk to Megatron about this. Like two fullframes that had lived long enough to know the full meaning of bonding and conjux enduras.

Ravage's tail lashed. "I'll leave you two to it."

"Hello Magnus, please come in. Rodimus asked you I take it?" Megatron asked, setting aside his data pad. 

“He did,” Magnus frowned, “Megatron, you cannot truly intend to bond with Rodimus. You know what could happen --”

Megatron nodded. "If my sentence was to be carried out it could end his spark as well as mine. Yes, Magnus I know. We aren't spark bonding -- much to Rodimus' consternation." 

“Oh,” Magnus said, feeling -- well, slightly foolish that Megatron wouldn’t have thought of that in advance, “I -- I see. I’m sorry, Megatron, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions --”

“It’s alright, I know Rodimus has -- different wishes,” Megatron ex-vented. "Not bonding when becoming conjunx endura did become common during the war -- I'm sure you're aware. I would never - ever - risk Rodimus' spark."

“If only Rodimus was so careful with it.”

Megatron bowed his helm slightly. "I know. I would be content keeping things as they are, but Rodimus wants this and I can deny him little."

"But you'll deny him bonding to you," Ultra Magnus pressed, not wanting to, but needing to make sure both his Captains and friends would not do something that could break so much. 

"Yes," Megatron confirmed. 

Magnus allowed himself to relax slightly at that. "I'm sorry for asking. I know you'll be careful when merging -- "

Megatron's servos tightened so hard and fast around the side of the chair Magnus heard the metal crunch. "We don't and won't merge."

Ultra Magnus blinked, “Ever?”

"No," Megatron said tightly, slowly unclenching his servos from the metal. His optics wouldn't meet Magnus'. "I won't risk it. Not even for my Prime."

“I -- understand,” Magnus finally said. "I would be honored to officiate your and Rodimus’ conjunx endura ceremony, Megatron. I apologize deeply for having distressed you with my questions."

Megatron shook his helm. "It's alright, Magnus. I understand your concerns - I'm surprised a bit that it was your only concern."

“I have other concerns, but those are more to do with Rodimus taking over my desk with his paint samples,” Ultra Magnus smiled wryly.

" -- he took over _your_ desk?" Megatron said after a klik starting to laugh. "Did you ask why he wasn't using his own desk?"

Magnus' chuckled. "I've learned to not even try to argue with him on things like that. As long as he does the paperwork I left I count it as a win."

Megatron laughed, “I hope you aren’t counting on it being done _correctly_.”

"If they were then I'm afraid Swerve might be rather put out with me considering he bet free drinks for life to Skids on that point," Magnus confided, shifting his weight. "Not that I'm supposed to know about that."

“Of course not,” Megatron smirked. "Ultra Magnus would never knowingly allow a betting pool to continue."

“Of course not,” Magnus agreed, mouth threatening to twitch up into something that might be a smile. "The Former Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord would never condone such a thing.”

Megatron's smirked transformed into a true smile. "And neither would the Captain of the Lost Light and former Warlord. So obviously, we know nothing of the sort."

Magnus laughed shaking his helm feeling more light sparked than he had since he and Dominus would sneak out of the House grounds to go to poetry readings and hear political speeches in cafes. "Rodimus, said you were working on your vows -- maybe I offer my assistance perhaps as a sounding board?" 

“Well, a willing audial would be a nice change from Ravage,” Megatron smiled wirly.

"I thought Ravage like your writing?"

“He does -- when it isn’t about Rodimus. He isn’t a fan of what he calls ‘my schmoopy sonnets,’ a category which my vows apparently fall into.” 

"I think I will be able to stand listening to your sonnets," Magnus chuckled with a friendly smile.

Megatron smiled and gestured to the couch, “Take a seat then. I think better on my pedes.”

\----

“Hey Minimus, you’re here late,” Swerve beamed as Ten let Minimus into the empty bar. As normal at the end of the night the place was what Minimus knew even Swerve would consider a mess. 

"I thought I would see if you required any help cleaning up the bar for the night," Minmus offered with a shy smile. He loved the way Swerve's visor brightened when he saw any version of him. "I would have been here sooner but Megatron needed my -- assistance."

Swerve pulled a face like he was trying to laugh and keep a straight face at the same time -- at least Minimus thought. He was never the best at reading expressions. "You should be careful pausing like that, Minmus, mechs will talk."

Minimus quirked his head, “Talk?”

"They way you phrased it, someone could think you were assisting Megatron with something dirty," Swerve pointed out, collecting a few left out glasses. "You know like you two were -- uh -- "

Minimus flushed, “Oh! I’ll -- make sure to keep a closer watch on my phrasing.”

“S’okay, pretty sure everyone would know you didn’t mean it like that.” Swerve quickly assured him. "I was mostly teasing, babe." As he passed by Minimus he stole a kiss - something he could only do when Minimus was in his irreducible form.

“Swerve!” Minimus faceplates heated. 

“It’s only PDA if there’s anyone here other than us,” Swerve grinned, gesturing around the bar.

“Ten is here,” Minimus protested, fighting the urge to duck his helm like a flustered newbuild.

“Ten didn’t see anything, right bud?”

"Ten," Ten agreed, smiling, then going back to straightening tables. 

Minimus huffed and after a klik of indecision, kissed Swerve's faceplate. "What do you need me to do?"

Swerve chuckled, "Stand there and look pretty?"

Minimus crossed his arms, “Do I look like Rodimus to you, Swerve?”

Swerve stopped, turning toward Minimus, his jaw dropping, “Minimus did -- did you just _sass_?”

"No," Minimus denied hastily, faceplates heating again. "I would never do such a thing."

"Ten."

"See! Ten thinks you did too!" Swerve laughed. "And I certainly think you’re pretty."

“That -- is entirely besides the point.”

Sitting down his tray, Swerve sidled closer. "It's the whole point," he told him, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Minimus flushed, “I will take your word for it, then, even if I disagree.”

Visor brightening, Swerve laughed. "C'mon, let's get this place up. I got another episode of that earth book adaptation we've been watching."

"I've read the book, Swerve," Minimus chuckled, starting to pick up glasses. "But I do enjoy watching it with you." 

“It’s not the same thing and you know it,” Swerve grinned. "And I like watching it with you too."

Minimus ducked his helm again, envious rememberings of Dominus and Rewind rising unbidden to the forefront of his processor -- he pushed those memories away and focused on the here and now and Swerve. "Thank you."

“C’mon, let’s get cleaned up then,” Swerve smiled, the one he just gave just to him.

\-----


End file.
